


It's Not a Party Unless    ⃞△Ｘ◯

by tinmiss1939



Series: DBH Mafia AU [4]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate universe - Mafia, F/M, House Party, It's not a party unless something is on fire, Social Anxiety, but keep the old, make new friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 11:25:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18467971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinmiss1939/pseuds/tinmiss1939
Summary: "My almost-boyfriends are coming to the party. They are twins, they are rich, and they are oddly sheltered. Please help them be normal."Connor and Richard, heirs to a Mafia empire, get invited to a party thrown by Ona, their mutual "It's Complicated" girlfriend.  They meet her friends, have some drinks, and play some party games.  This goes about as well as one would expect.





	It's Not a Party Unless    ⃞△Ｘ◯

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [DBH Mafia AU](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/473080) by selfships-in-spanish on Tumblr!. 



> This will probably not make a lick of sense unless you are familiar with the rest of the series. D:

"We should have brought beer," Richard mumbled as they waited at Ona's apartment door.

Connor looked at him sharply. "Is there something wrong with a 2010 Contador Rioja? This is a really nice wine and it's from northern Spain."

"It's a 300 dollar bottle of wine! These are _normal people_. You can't just buy them off."

"I'm not trying to buy anyone off," Connor said. He could feel his face heating up.  The upbeat rhythms of Spanish fusion-rock filtered through the door, along with people laughing and maybe video game sounds. It didn't sound like a wine and canapés party for rich business executives; it sounded like fun. It sounded like friends having fun on a Saturday night for no reason other than they enjoyed each other's company.  He hadn't been to a house party like that since college. Anxiety flared in his chest, making his tone sharp. "So, what? Two dozen roses is somehow a _normal_ hostess gift?"

"Yellow roses are a symbol of friendship. The white lilies are for the purity of our intentions." Richard poked through the bouquet. "Is it too much?" His ears were turning red and there was uncertainty in his tone.

Immediately, Connor felt awful. He knew better than to needle Richard like that right before a social event. Connor took a deep breath, smiled and patted his brother's shoulder. "It's perfect. She'll love them."

The door opened. It was not Ona.

Early to mid twenties. Male. Messy dark hair that was growing out of a Princeton clip. Bags under eyes. One of the cousins? The young man started shouting rapid fire Catalan over his shoulder. Definitely one of the cousins.  

"Connor and Richard! Finally! Maybe Ona will stop freaking out now." He threw open the door.  "I'm Jordi. Get your asses in here! Let me take your jackets."

This was the medical student. Wayne State, third year. The brothers glanced at each other as they stepped in. Connor said, "That's kind of you, but we'll keep the jackets." They had picked these suits carefully. Connor was wearing his favorite Tom Ford.

Jordi laughed. "No, seriously. Connor, take off your jacket and tie. You probably should roll up the shirt sleeves." Jordi considered Richard a moment. "You're going to have to switch shirts with me."

Richard balked. "Are you kidding?"

Jordi shook his head. "Nope. Ona warned me you two would be overdressed, but I didn't think it would be this bad. That turtleneck is way too much." He had already taken off his flannel shirt and now pulled the oversize charcoal grey tee shirt over this head. Richard took the tee shirt with a frown that had struck fear into the heart of convicted felons. Jordi merely buttoned up his flannel.

Connor was amused at the way Jordi's eyebrows shot to the ceiling when he saw the labels. With some reverence, he hung the jackets on the best plastic hangers in the closet and ruthlessly threw several garments on the closet floor to make room. The tie was given its own hanger, adjusted back and forth until Jordi was sure it wouldn't fall off.

There was still a sour look on Richard's face, likely from mild insult to his turtleneck. Richard tugged the tee shirt a few times but it was actually a fair fit.  The shirt said 'I Can't Fix Stupid But I Can Sedate It' in bold white print.

Quietly, Connor said, "Somehow, that works for you but probably not how they intended." Richard snorted a laugh.

Jordi's hearing was even better than Ona’s, as he laughed, too. "You have to keep that," Jordi said. "That is so much funnier on you." Richard looked up sharply at the comment, but Jordi's smile was mischievous, his posture relaxed. That was not usually the attitude of someone who knew Richard's true profession.

Before either of them could form a question, Jordi leaned in and said, "It's okay. I just finished an ER rotation and my brother's a cop. I know the kinds of people you deal with and what happens when you _don't_ deal with them. No worries, man." Jordi took the flowers and bottle of wine. "Come on, I'll introduce you."

They entered an open living room that transitioned into a small dining area.  Jordi pointed to several people on the couch and TV. "The guy playing Grand Theft Auto is Ibai; everyone calls him Ibby or Ibbs. He is from Bilbao and he’s here for a teacher exchange program, so we’ve all kind of adopted him.   On the right is Ibby's girlfriend, Flora, and that’s Adrian on the left. The one with the guitar over there is John, and he is not allowed to play Wonderwall. If he does, he has to buy a beer for everyone within hearing range!" John flipped his middle finger at Jordi and went back to tuning the guitar.

Jordi turned towards the kitchen. "That's Alba by the punch bowl. The sangria is not too strong tonight, but the fruit has been marinating all day so watch out. Alba!"

Alba looked up and let out a very loud screech. "Oh my God!" she said, voice dropping in a brief vocal fry before the pitch climbed again in a squeak. "Look at those roses!" She bounced over and snatched the bouquet out of Jordi's hands. "I'll put these in water. Wow, you really are twins. You two are just the cutest ever!" She skipped back to the kitchen, pulling a vase from under the sink and turning on the tap.

"I knew she would do something with the flowers," Jordi said, following her into the kitchen with the wine. "Ona is on the balcony through there."

The second story balcony was Ona’s pride and joy, and she had not spared any effort on making it a perfect party space tonight.  She had hung white string lights and paper lanterns from the arbor. White votive candles had been dressed up with bits of ribbon and clustered on a round table.  She had surrounded the candles with crystals rescued from a yard sale and folded paper flowers. The different lights combined into a golden-pink glow that made the space appear enchanted. Balancing on a deck chair barefoot, Ona herself looked like an angel touched down to Earth. She glanced over her shoulder, her white sundress swishing around her knees.

"Richard! Connor! I'm glad you're here," she said. She spun around too quickly and the chair wobbled underneath her. They both darted forward, just in time for her to land in their arms like some romantic trust fall. "Whoops," she whispered, heat rising to her ears. They set her on her feet, but stayed close. Richard held onto her waist while Connor took her hands.

"You should be more careful, kitten," Connor chided. He leaned down to kiss her cheek. As he pulled back, Richard kissed her other cheek.  It was good Richard was still steadying her, since she might faint if they kept looking at her that way.

Ona cleared her throat as delicately as possible. "Let's get something to drink," she said. "You have to try the sangria."

Returning to the kitchen, Ona almost ran into Connor when he stopped short. He made a sort of gasping, choking noise. She peeked around his shoulder, to see Jordi pouring a bottle of wine into the punch bowl. She looked up at Connor’s stricken face, then back at the wine bottle. Unfamiliar label, with a red ribbon around the neck. A gift?

"Jordi, stop," she said, pushing past the still-frozen Connor. "Put the bottle down."

"What?" He stopped pouring, but the bottle still hovered over the sangria. "It was getting low. Alba said I could add more wine."

Over by the sink, Alba heard her name and turned around. "No, you child! Not that wine," she exclaimed, pulling it away from him. "That was a hostess gift for Ona. She drinks it later." She checked the bottle. "There is still two-thirds left, Connor. Can we recork it?"

His voice said, “Yes,” but his face said 'please make it stop.' It was Richard who finally stepped forward to intervene.

“Why don’t we decant this wine into a smaller bottle,” he said, taking the bottle from Alba. “I think I see an empty brandy bottle over there on the counter.” Alba hustled to make it happen.

“What a good idea,” Ona said brightly. “And, Connor, I think Adrian likes to talk about cars.  His father has a classic Corvette or Mustang or something that he is restoring. Doesn’t that sound interesting?”

“Those are entirely different cars—“ he started, but she towed him over to the couch before he got too far into the rant. Adrian was happy to have someone to debate cars with and immediately clarified it was a vintage Cadillac.

Ona returned to the kitchen, where Richard handed her a glass of red wine. “There was some overflow from the brandy bottle. Decanting the wine into a smaller bottle helps keep out oxygen. We’ll stick it in the fridge and it should be okay to drink tomorrow. Connor would not have done much different at home.“

Ona took a sip; it was lush and full of flavor, deep and dark. Very appropriate for Connor, she thought. “It’s not my usual style but it is quite nice.”

“It really improved the sangria too,” Alba piped up before she grimaced. “But maybe we won’t tell Connor that.” She brought the vase of flowers over from the sink. “Richard brought these, Ona. Aren’t they nice? I love yellow roses for a party.”

Ona gave Richard a kiss in the cheek. “They are very pretty. Thank you.” He smiled shyly.

Alba fussed with the flowers, moving a rose here and a lily there. “They’re very fresh, too. High quality. Where did you get them, Richard?”

“There is a small independent florist in Corktown, Barrera’s. My family has used them for years.”

“I love it! That is adorable.”

Jordi appeared with someone new, eliciting another squeal from Alba. “Kelly!  Is that a new jacket? Let me see! Take it off this instant!” She bounced away.

Ona leaned on the kitchen counter next to Richard and bumped her shoulder into him. “So, what am I supposed to pair with this fancy wine?” she asked.

Richard hummed for few seconds and looked into space, contemplating the question with a teasing seriousness. “Honestly, I do not know. Maybe I can ask Connor and we could,” he brushed her hand with the back of his fingers, “w-we could bring something over tomorrow night?”  

His touch was delicate and shy, melting her heart. “I’d like that very much,” she said, taking his hand.

Richard chuckled with relief and squeezed her hand back.

From the living room, Adrian shouted, “Hey, Ona! Can you bring over some more sangria and beers?”

Ona scowled. “Get it yourself, you lazy bum!“

“But Connor’s on that tricky part of the third level. He needs help.”

“So pause the game.” She rolled her eyes at the chorus of whines then looked sideways at Richard.  “You don’t have a drink yet. I think I have bourbon somewhere.”

The treasure hunt for whiskey gave Richard an in-depth tour of Ona’s kitchen. A hodgepodge of antique china filled the cupboards, complemented by mismatched silver flatware from a dozen thrift stores.  Richard frowned at the collection of sugary children’s cereals, but the fridge at least had proper fruits and vegetables. He closed the fridge door to see Ona standing on the kitchen counter. She found the bottle in a cabinet over the fridge, but her glee turned to pouting when Richard hauled her down.

“Stop climbing the furniture,” he teased from behind her, leaning over her shoulder.  “If you insist on being short, my little Hermia, you are going to need step ladder.” He wrapped one arm around her waist and another across her shoulders to cuddle her closer against his chest.

Ona opened the bourbon and drank at least a shot directly from the bottle. “I am a perfectly normal height!” She crossed one arm over his and leaned back. “You’re just stupidly tall.”

“I think both can be true.”  He nuzzled into her curly hair, picking up scents of coconut shampoo and candle smoke.

Just as Richard was mentally comparing her hair to clouds or dandelion fluff, she elbowed him in the gut.  “Don’t think you can get away with it just because you called me a Shakespearean heroine,” she groused.

“Get away with what?”

“Anything!”

“Okay, Ona,” he whispered in her ear. “Whatever you say.”  He turned her face towards his with a gentle touch to her chin. “I won’t try anything.”  He kissed her, tasting the bourbon on her lips.

She smiled into the kiss. “Liar. Let’s get you a drink.”

He tried the bourbon neat first. It was aggressive, very aggressive. He added some ice, which helped tone it down from a road rage level of aggression to a anti-vaccine soccer mom level of aggression. Her eyebrows raised in amusement, Ona popped open a Coke and poured it into his glass. Richard felt guilty but it had to be done.  He took a few sips; it was drinkable. It was also slightly less likely to give him a hangover than the sangria.

Ibai walked into the kitchen while they chatted about cocktail mixers. “They all put their fingers on their noses and then told me I had to get the beer,” he said, pulling a six-pack out of the fridge. “Is this an American thing?  Also, Connor asked for a sangria but he looked sad about it.”

Richard sighed.  “It is an American thing.  That wasn’t very nice.”

“Hey, you are the one who boxes, correct?” Ibai poured out some Sangria, then smiled when Ona added a little umbrella.

“Sort of,” Richard said slowly while studying Ibai’s expression and posture. “I’m interested in several martial arts. How about you?”

“I’ve been taking capoeira classes for a couple years now and I wanted to mix things up.  I looked at MMA for the challenge but the head injuries, right? The concussions? Not good. What do you think?”

“Judo might be interesting.  It would be different. Let me find some videos.” Richard pulled out his phone.

“The deck is quieter, if you wanted,” Ona offered.

Ibai grinned. “Yeah, let’s go. The cooler on the deck has the good beer.”

Richard looked back towards Ona, clearly torn. She physically pushed him out of the kitchen, whispering, “He’s nice.  Don’t fret so much.”

They ambled over towards the deck, leaving the sangria and beer behind.  Ona smiled as they wandered off. She should have expected those two to get along.  She picked up Connor’s sangria and headed for the living room. Upon entering, she was greeted by the opening notes of “Stairway to Heaven” followed by a chorus of jeers and boos.  

John was feeling poetic, apparently.  

Flora lunged for the guitar to save everyone’s sanity, leading to some sour notes when John leaned right to dodge her. This put him directly in Kelly’s path. Kelly took the guitar and fled to the kitchen, chased by John who was chased by Flora.  Upbeat chords of “As Cool as I am” by Dar Williams started, shortly joined by Kelly and Flora’s voices.

_Yeah, there was a time I didn’t like the love, I liked the climbers..._

Ona bent down to kiss Connor’s cheek and hand him the drink.  He took the drink with one hand and then pulled her into his lap with the other.  

“Hello to you as well, Connor!” she laughed. “Having fun?”

“Yes!” He grinned too broadly.  “Have you ever had a Jäger Bomb?  They are terrible.”

Confused and concerned, Ona looked around the room.  None of the boys were making eye contact. “Guys,” she asked, “How many has he had?”

Adrian actually paused the video game to answer. “Three.” He had the grace to look a guilty.

Jordi gasped. “I thought that was his first one.  Are you trying to make him sick?” He took the sangria from Connor and replaced it with a bottle of water from the coffee table.

“He’d never had one!” Adrian said, trying to defend himself.  “Somehow Connor missed 2005 to 2010.”

Ona rolled her eyes. “Somehow you seem perpetually trapped in 2005 to 2010, so maybe it works out.” Connor shifted her in his arms, making her squeak in surprise.  He was reaching behind the couch for the sangria that Jordi held just out of his reach; Jordi stepped further away. Connor pouted but drank the water. Wanting to reinforce good behavior, Ona kissed his cheek to make him blush and smile again.

“How’s Richard doing?” he asked.

“He’s good.  I think he’s making a friend.”

“Ibai?  Good.” A funny little smile spread across his face. “Good.”

Ona smacked his shoulder. “You set that up, you bastard.”  Rather than answer, Connor stood up, taking Ona with him while she shrieked.  He spun in a circle while setting her on her feet, effortlessly transitioning into a ridiculous waltz that was barely in time with John and Flora’s rendition of “You’ve Got to Hide Your Love Away” by the Beatles.

The Jäger Bombs weren’t that strong compared to the Cabs and Pinot Noirs that Connor usually drank; he could already feel himself sobering up.  Ona was warm and soft in his arms, however, so he kept dancing. He half-watched the rest of the room. Flora, trailed by a hungry looking John, had brought in a tray of fruit, cheese, and veggies for snacks.  Jordi and Adrian debated starting a new level of the game or starting a movie. Ibai and Richard passed through a few times; they appeared to be gathering food and drinks but it was hard to tell.

He twirled Ona out and brought her back, surprised when she brought a glass of the sangria with her.  Off his questioning look, she shrugged.

“You should try it.  You did have a hand in making it,” she teased.  

He took a sip.  He could taste a hint of the Rioja, but was surprised by the spices.  “Is that nutmeg?” he asked. “That’s nice.”

Ona’s cheeks turned a deeper coral and she looked down briefly.  “My grandfather probably wouldn’t approve but I like it. Of course, he thinks sangria is way too touristy and would have a _tinto de verano_ or a cava if given the choice.”

“He sounds like my kind of person,” Connor said, “but I do like your sangria, kitten.”

“Hey, lovebirds!” Jordi called across the room.  “How about Cards Against Humanity?”

Connor frowned.  “Is that a game?”  

The stares from everyone in the room seemed melodramatic to him.  Ona even patted his shoulder like he was a neglected child before she went to get more waters from the kitchen.  An instinct to bluff gripped his heart—to deflect, to escape, _anything_ —but Connor stopped himself before he could throw up those shields.  Jordi’s grin was open as he pulled out black and white playing cards.  Kelly and John were loudly talking about their best plays. Adrian leaned forward, waving him over.  They looked excited to show him something new. It was an unusual feeling for Connor but it seemed...safe.  Probably.

If Connor was confused in the living room, Ona had a bigger surprise in the kitchen.  Alba lay on the kitchen floor with her cell phone on her stomach. She was peeling off nail polish and flicking away.  

“Alba, _carinyo_? Are you okay?”

Alba shook her head. “My sister is getting a divorce.  It’s awful for Laura and I swear that was my first thought.”  She closed her eyes. “My second thoughts were ‘Now Mama is going to go after _me_ to get married and give her grandkids.’ I’m so awful.”  

Ona sighed and dug into her freezer for her emergency Twix bars. “You are not awful.  You are human.” She tossed one to Alba. “I have met your mother. It is a valid concern to have.”  She sat down next to her friend. “How’s Laura?”

“Angry.  Making jokes that her credit score will probably go up.”  Alba chomped down on the chocolate bar. “At least I’ll get to see her at Christmas, right?”

They talked mothers and biological clocks and whether they even wanted babies.  They ate chocolate and talked more. Kelly appeared, confirmed they were okay and just having girl time, and then took the entire punch bowl of sangria with her when she went back to the game.  

Alba felt better after a few Twix bars and texting her sister. They stood up to go back to the living room when Alba asked if she could smell smoke.

“Maybe one of those idiots has a vape pen?” Ona suggested.

As soon as they stepped into the living room, Jordi yelled, “Fire! On the balcony!”

The tabletop burned bright orange in the darkness and the flames had reached Ona’s paper lanterns, turning them into a garland of fireballs.  A glass candle jar exploded, sending the girls diving for cover.

With the fearless grace of the slightly drunk, Connor vaulted the sofa and grabbed the vase of Richard’s flowers. He ignored Alba’s shouting, sprinted onto the balcony, and dumped the contents, water and flowers, onto the fire.

“What is wrong with you?“ Alba cried, pulling the vase from his hands before he threw that, too. “Why the flowers!?“

“I wasn’t going to use the sangria; that still has $100 of Contador in it.“

To his credit, it was partially effective. The massive flames from the table were smaller, but the fire was still spreading from the paper lanterns to the arbor.   John and Adrian pulled Connor back into the living room, clearing the way for Ona and the fire extinguisher.

With an experienced hand, she pulled the ring, aimed, squeezed, and swept the paper lanterns and flowers. For good measure, she then swept a burst over Ibai and Richard, who were tucked in the corner, drunk and terrified and babbling apologies.

Ona analyzed in the wreckage. “Where the fuck did these extra candles come from?” she asked, bewildered. “That one was a gift from my sister.  Is that my wax warmer?” She huffed. “Big fucking surprise that the fire spread all over the place. This was basically a cup of molten fuel.”

“We liked the atmosphere,” Ibai mumbled.  

“It smelled nice,” Richard added. He grinned. “Like you.”

Those blue eyes were sparkling with drunken admiration; Ona’s irritation cooled a little.  Still impatient, she waved for them to continue.

“He was showing me a head lock,” Ibai explained. “It was really cool, but I kicked the table.” Ibai punched Richard in the shoulder. “That’s a sick move, Rick.  You should come to the varsity wrestling practice at the high school. We need another assistant coach.”

Richard squinted.  “I am certain that move would be illegal in most scholastic and collegiate wrestling leagues.”

“The kids don’t care.  They just like seeing new moves.”

They had somehow changed the topic entirely, which flared Ona’s frustration.  She closed her eyes, took a breath, and looked at the situation again. Richard was absolutely glowing while he made plans with Ibai.  They weren’t her students. She firmly reminded herself that they were morally developed adults, sort of, and they had shown remorse before they started planning future play dates.  After they agreed to clean up everything, she turned back to the living room.

Alba pulled her into a hug immediately.  “It’s still a good party.”

“It’s been an instant classic, Ona,” Jordi said with a sly grin.  He backed towards the kitchen once he saw her suspicious glare in his direction.  “Besides, you did say you wanted them to see one of our normal Saturday night house parties.”

His head start towards the front door did not save him from Ona’s wrath or the fire extinguisher.

 


End file.
